Lenon's blood boiled hotter than a kettle about to blow its top. The nerve of that cocky human and these dog-faced morons, thinking they could stroll into his village and act like they ran the place.
Help? Help with what? Look at his proud cat warriors, clawing the dogs into submission like it was a damn sport.
Sure, he had a shady deal with the dog tribe behind closed doors, but that didn't mean these furballs could pull this unannounced attack out of their asses without his say-so.
Jacky, that dumb mutt, had the audacity to strike without warning? No signal, no heads-up, nothing. It was like the flea-bitten bastard didn't even fear him anymore.
But still, victory was in his grasp. And Lenon was loving every second of it. He was proving to Jacky that the only reason the village had lost in the past was because he wasn't involved.
